Where I Belong

Chapter 24

WAIT

ZED

I'll be the first to admit that this is not how I enjoy spending my Saturdays, but I also can't deny that watching as my big brother said 'I do' to Lacey didn't make me smile on the inside and stirred something in my chest. Is this something I want for myself? Absolutely not. I've only been on the periphery of this wedding planning that Mom's been so obsessed with over the past few months, but that's enough to know that I don't have the patience for any of it.

With the most important part of today over, I start to wonder how long I have to stick around for before it'll be deemed acceptable for me to disappear to my room for a bit. I fucking hate small talk, and that is all that's going to be happening the second we step out of this room. I'll be hit with the same questions I get every fucking time we have a gathering. "Have you found a woman to straighten you out yet?" "When are you going to join the family business? I'm sure you'll be an asset somewhere/
All of them just add fuel to the already smoldering fire that's in the pit of my stomach whenever I'm forced to spend time with these people. My parents might have at last realized that I'm a free spirit and do as I please no matter what they say, but it's about time everyone else did. They all learned long ago that I don't fit the Necrodopolus mold. I don't conform to their ideals. What the fuck ever. I'm me, and they either like it or they fucking don't, because I'm not changing for anyone.

By the time everyone else has left the room, I'm damn near desperate for a drink, but that doesn't mean I accept the fancy looking cocktail a young waitress waves under my nose.

"I don't think so, sweetheart. Care to get me a whiskey instead?" Her cheeks flush at my use of the word 'sweetheart,' just like I'd hoped, and she goes rushing off, hopefully in the direction of the nearest bar. She's cute, and I can't help but stare at her ass in her skirt as she rushes away. Maybe she could make today better.

"You know, you could find it in you to at least look a little happy about today," Willa says, wrapping her hand around my arm as she settles into my side.

"I am." She lifts a perfectly sculpted brow at me. "Fine, how's this?" I give her a fake smile and she laughs.

"Yeah, you pull that smile in the photos and you're likely to be cut out."

"Suits me."

"Speaking of suits, I'd forgotten how well you fill one out." The reminder of the last time she saw me in one is like someone throwing a bucket of ice-cold water over me. "Shit, fuck… Forget I said anything." Her eyes fill with tears as similar thoughts fill her head.

"It's okay. Let's just get through this and then we can go get shitfaced."

"Sounds like the perfect plan." She plucks one of the fancy drinks from a tray when another server passes. "You want one?"

"No, I've placed a special order. And here it comes right now." We both watch as the girl returns with a single glass of whiskey sitting in the center of her tray.

"The drink or the girl?"

"Both." I wink at her before turning towards the girl. "Thank you, you have no idea how badly this is needed." I lift the glass to my lips, and as I expected she stands and watches as I swallow the amber liquid.

"A-another?" she stutters, her cheeks still amusingly pink.

"Make it two, and we've got a deal."

"Will you leave her alone? She's too young for you."

"She's serving alcohol. She's old enough."

Willa tsks before turning her attention to the room. "We're getting fed soon, right?"

"Fuck knows. You think I was listening when they laid out the schedule?" I tug at my collar, totally uncomfortable in this fucking suit, and already desperate to replace it with jeans and a t-shirt.

"You're useless. I only came because you promised me decent food," she teases.

My aunt and uncle wander over and ask me all the usual questions, I answer them as politely as possible, knowing that they'll be the first of many. Willa joins in where necessary, playing the part of my date perfectly, but the second I introduce her my aunt and uncle know exactly who she is.

They soon bid me farewell and head off to give someone else twenty questions.

"You know, you could have a hell of a lot of fun making shit up. No one has a clue who you really are, so they'd probably believe anything at this point." I consider her suggestion, but I'm not really sure I have the energy for it, even though it would probably be hilarious to convince all these rich snobs that I was a spy or something equally as unbelievable. "The money that's in this room right now in clothes and jewelry is insane, you know that right?"

I mumble some kind of agreement. Willa knows how much I hate this scene, how uncomfortable I feel surrounded by it all. She doesn't need to remind me.

"Whoa, that dress is stunning. I wonder who it is." Rolling my eyes, a couple of my Mom and sister's favorite designers are on the tip of my tongue as I follow Willa's stare.

The dress she's talking about is a simple navy strapless dress with some kind of sheer overlay that wraps around her neck, butterflies on the skirt, and a slim ribbon around the waist. It's nothing amazing, I'm actually surprised that out of all the dresses here that it's the one she's picked out. I run my eyes over the woman's curves that the dress displays perfectly, and my cock stirs at the thought of having them beneath my hands as I make my way up her back and to her tattoo… wait… wait a fucking minute… tattoo? Butterfly tattoo... and… white hair. White?!

My heart slams against my chest.

No, no, no. It can't be.

I take a step back, successfully backing into a waiter and sending his tray full of drinks crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," I bark, going to help him but being denied as another waiter comes over to assist.

"What's wrong?" Willa asks, following my stare and finding the woman in the dress once again. Only now she's turned around and is staring right at me. "I recognize her…" I barely register Willa's words because there's something exploding inside me. I try to remind myself where I am and that the last thing I need to do right now is make even more of a scene, but as the fire blazed I'm afraid I've got no power over what comes next.

Her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights, but there's not as much shock on her face as there should be, and that's when it dawns on me.

She's always known.

"Fuck."

Every muscle in my body screams at me to march over to her and drag her from the room so I can demand the answers I need, but when my legs move, they go in the opposite direction.

"Zed?" Willa calls, the clicking of her heels following my escape.

My steps don't falter until I've thrown open a set of double doors and raced down the steps into the garden.

"Zed? What the hell? Who is she?"

My chest heaves and I fight to drag in the breaths I need.

A bitter laugh falls from my lips. "I don't know," I admit. I thought I had her all figured out. The rich girl wanting to be a rebel. Well, I was right about one thing, she is the rich girl. I just had no idea she was somehow directly connected to the rich people I try to avoid at all costs.

I never should have fucking touched her.

My fists clench as memories of my time with her slam into me. Even now, when I can barely see through the red haze of anger that's descended around me, I can't forget how fucking electric we are together.

But why is she here? How does she know your family?

Lacey's a student. So is Addison. I tell myself that that is it. She's friends with Lacey and had no idea I was connected to her. This is just a coincidence. Only, it's not. I remember the look in her eyes as she stared at me. She was expecting me. That look in her eyes wasn't shock. It was fear. Fear because I'd just figured her out.

"Zed, where the hell are you going?" Willa shouts as I storm back toward the hotel. Scene or not, I need to hear the truth from her lips before I put an end to anything that might have been between us for good. I ignore her repeated question as I push back through the doors and find the room exactly as it was before my world imploded.

I search for her in the crowd but come up short. My nails dig into my palms with my need to hear her beg for a reprieve when I get my fucking hands on her. My teeth grind with my need to hurt her.

A man clears his throat at the other side of the room, earning him all the attention. "The bride and groom would like the wedding party to join them outside for photos."

"Come on, asswipe. Let's go," Bree says, suddenly appearing at my side and linking her arms through mine.

I allow her to drag me from the room because I'm not sure what else to do right at this very moment.

We're almost outside when I spot her. She's at reception, taking a room key from the member of staff behind the desk.

She's staying the night. Good. That means she's got nowhere to run.